


Fairy Tale

by micehell



Category: Velvet Goldmine
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-25
Updated: 2004-02-25
Packaged: 2017-11-10 22:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack attends some parties and winds up losing more than a pin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairy Tale

It started with a party.

This was not too terribly surprising as Jack spent much of his life at parties. But this party was special, like something out of a fairy tale. There was a handsome prince and a waif in distress. It turned out there was even a wicked witch to be overcome, though it took Jack a while to figure out that was the role he had been cast in. Or perhaps it was just a new kind of fairy tale, one to fit this modern age, where the waif seduces the prince, steals his heart and then runs away with the witch.

OK, if Jack wanted to be honest, all that had really been stolen was his pin, but the pin had been special. Of course, Brian had been special and Jack might have been tempted to have given him the pin if he hadn’t thrown Jack over for Mandy with an embarrassingly short pause in between the two of them.

Jack wasn’t the type to go in for vengeance, no matter how much some people richly deserved it. As a general rule, revenge wasn’t accomplished by making some bitchy comments, and Jack had made more than a few of those. Jack was far too self-absorbed to expend much energy on anyone but himself.

So he wrote off the pin as lost and forgot all about it. Time passed, as it will, and Jack’s fortunes started to decline. Oh, not horribly so, he was still Jack Fairy, still much sought after for parties. Just not as much as he had been. He would have thought it just the way of things, the fickleness of fate, except that as his star was setting, Brian’s was burning brighter by the day.

It got to the point where you couldn’t listen to the radio for more than an hour without hearing one of Brian’s songs. And while Jack didn’t begrudge Brian the limelight, it did bother him that much of Brian’s style was ‘borrowed’ from others, especially from Jack. Honesty compelled him to admit that no one was completely original and that Brian had added his own stuff to mix, but still, the origins were plain to see. It was almost as if Brian had stolen a piece of Jack when he took the pin.

If he were the superstitious sort, he could almost believe that his and Brian’s fame, or lack thereof, was tied into who had the pin. Of course, it was just a coincidence. Of course.

All the same, Jack wanted his pin back, rather badly.

 

 

It was at a party that Jack next saw the pin. He knew Brian was there with some piece of American trash that he had picked up in the States. There had been quite the furor when the two had disappeared together, only to return a few days later, with Brian apologizing for missing his engagements while looking not very sorry at all.

Jack hadn’t paid this new fling of Brian’s much attention and wouldn’t have even recognized him if it hadn’t been for the pin. His pin, now reduced to a bauble for a bauble. Though, if he were being quite truthful, he could definitely see why Brian would be attracted to the man. He was quite the pretty bauble.

It took very little conversation with him for Jack to determine two things: the bauble’s name was Curt Wild, which suited him to a tee, and that said bauble was nearly inarticulate. Of course, with a face and body like that, who needed conversation.

Still, it didn’t explain why Brian had given Curt the pin. Brian had been canny enough to see that the pin was special. He wouldn’t have given it away to a piece of fluff he could have had just for the asking. Not that Curt had responded to Jack’s overtures, but then Jack wasn’t his meal ticket.

 

Jack was at a particularly boring party when the mystery of Curt’s appeal was revealed to him. Someone had been playing Brian’s albums ad nauseum, causing Jack to consider either breaking the record player or to run screaming from the place, when something new started to play. Unpolished and raw it might have been, but powerful all the same. Intrigued, Jack had gone to see who the artist was. There on the cover had been a picture of Curt, smiling and shooting a bird with both hands, though the middle fingers had been blurred to avoid complaints. All attitude couched in a beautiful form.

It had been a revelation. Curt might be nearly non-verbal in conversation, but his songs were moving, full of passion and dark insights. He was definitely a diamond in the rough and it was unlikely he would ever be polished. Jack wondered if the very polished Brian was going to try to accomplish that feat and thought it would be a shame if he succeeded.

 

Though he might feel a wee bit resentful of Brian, it would never stop Jack from attending a good party. Brian was there in all his after-performance glow, buzzed and buzzing through the crowd while Curt followed along in his wake. Pique notwithstanding, Jack thought it had been an excellent show. It had also been a study of contrasts. Brian, playing to the audience, every move controlled and calculated for effect. Curt, flipping the audience off, almost out of control and moving like he was channeling the electricity from his guitar. Brian, the does it look good; Curt, the does it feel good.

Opposites attract and the attraction between the two was plain to see. Jack cynically wondered how much longer the relationship had. Oh, sure, Brian was in love, but he had a long history of taking what he wanted and then moving on. Of course, it was possible that Brian would do differently with Curt. Just not very probable.

And maybe after they broke up Curt wouldn’t want the pin any longer. Jack would have to keep his eye out.

 

Jack was at a mediocre party, sipping mediocre champagne, and eating a mediocre canapé when he first heard that Brian and Curt had split up. Supposedly, Brian was pining in seclusion while Curt was living high in Berlin. Jack had his doubts about the accuracy of that, but that could just have been bias on his part. Still, it did mean that Curt was fair game. And wouldn’t it just serve Brian right if Curt went right into the arms of another man, with barely a pause in between.

Well, Jack had a place in Berlin that he really should check up on. And Curt in Berlin - a stranger in a strange land, alone and upset after his very recent breakup. Between that vulnerability and the way Curt looked, the sharks would be circling in force. Jack’s presence would keep them from closing in, would be a comfort for Curt. Should that comfort lead to anything else, well, they were both consenting adults.

And if Jack got his pin back, that would just be the icing on the cake.

 

The champagne was good and the caviar divine. If Curt had been there it would have been the perfect party. But Curt was insistent that Jack handle all ‘money shit’, as Curt so eloquently called it. Diplomacy was definitely not Curt’s strong suit, and Jack didn’t really mind being the one to keep their backers happy if it meant that they had the money to record. He especially didn’t mind if the backers kept having parties like this.

It wasn’t like it would have done him any good if Curt were at the party, as Jack was apparently invisible to him, at least sexually. Oh, he’d talk to Jack forever (about music) and he’d hang around him all day long (if they were talking about, playing or recording music), but nothing else. Maybe he should tell Curt that he wrote his best stuff while having sex, that might do it. With the way Curt ignored his subtle sexual advances, and the not so subtle ones, as well, that might be the only way he’d get any.

During the time they’d been collaborating, Jack had come to really appreciate Curt. He had gone past the need to score any points on Brian by taking his lover. He had gone past the need to simply fuck Curt because he was beautiful to look at. He’d even gone past the point of wanting his pin back. He just wanted Curt.

If Curt wasn’t having sex with anyone, Jack could attribute his lack of success to some strange vow of celibacy. But Curt was having sex, lots of it. He seemed to be open to all takers, except for Jack. They came on to him, they fucked him and they left, with Curt barely remembering them when they were gone.

Even the ones that got too rough didn’t seem to faze Curt in the least. Jack had found him after one of those had left and had tried to offer some comfort. Curt had laughed and said risk was part of sex. When Jack had said that finding a steady partner might lessen the risk, Curt had simply waved him off.

Days later, during dinner one night, out of the blue Curt had said that the only people he’d been with more than once had been Brian and his brother and that he’d rather take his chances with a stranger.

 

Jack was always amazed at how dowdy London seemed after the wildness of Berlin. And the British backers didn’t throw as good a party as the German ones did, either. Still, only the British seemed to know how to make a really good martini and the gin helped to make up for the bland food.

He’d already seen that Jerry was at the party, but he’d managed to avoid him so far. He’d overheard the man drunkenly complain about Brian’s declining sales, something that actually made Jack a little happy, but, declining sales or not, Jerry still had some power here, so it was best not to broadcast that fact.

However, his luck eventually ran out and Jerry managed to corner him. Jerry had heard the buzz about Curt and Jack’s album and was talking as if he’d always liked their work, even though he’d never had much to do with Jack before and had actively acted against Curt. Once Jerry had figured out that Jack wasn’t going to work any kind of deal with him, he went right back into complaining about lackluster sales.

Jack was never quite sure what had prompted him to make the comment linking dead artists to a boost in sales. He was sure it wasn’t malice, because at his worst, he’d never wished Brian dead. But Jerry took to the idea immediately. Jack was immensely relieved when he figured out that Jerry was talking about a publicity stunt and not an actual murder, though he thought it was a stupid idea, nonetheless. But Jerry was both drunk and underhanded and it was never a good combination.

Jack was quite sure that it was malice that led him to offering to be the ‘shooter’. He wasn’t drunk and only somewhat underhanded and he knew that this whole thing would blow up in Jerry’s face. And Brian’s. Of course, Brian could say no to the whole thing, but he’d never refused Jerry before and Jack would bet he wouldn’t now. Jack might have gone beyond wanting Curt to get back at Brian, but he hadn’t altogether given up just wanting to get back at Brian. Aware that there was history between the two, Jerry wasn’t surprised that Jack would want to ‘shoot’ Brian and was quite happy to include him in his plan.

Jack listened enough to pick up the details, but all the while he was thinking about the fact that, for a while, Curt was going to think Brian was dead. As much as Curt didn’t talk about Brian, Jack was sure he was still in love with him. He would be devastated by the news and in need of comfort. And later, when he found out the truth… well, he’d need comfort then, too. Without the hope that he might get back with Brian, all of Curt’s walls would be down, and Jack would finally be in.

Brian had taken something from Jack, but he was finally going to pay him back. Brian was going to get Curt for him.

 

The post show party at the Death of Glitter concert was truly amazing. So much talent in one room, missing only Brian. It should have been a crowning moment for Jack, yet it was all he could do to keep from breaking down.

He could see the steps he’d taken to get to this place, see the missteps. He wished he could blame it all on Brian, but he knew it wouldn’t be true. He’d used people, Brian had used people, no real difference there. They’d both had Curt and both lost him, no difference there, either.

As he watched Curt single out the little Brian look-alike, Jack tried to shut out the memory of their time together, but it was burned in his mind and he couldn’t forget. Didn’t want to forget.

He’d been right. Curt had been lost after the news of Brian’s death. Jack had held him as he cried, not attempting anything more, even though the feel of Curt in his arms was trying his control. But he didn’t want a one-time fuck with Curt, and if he used him the way others had, that would be all he got. So he bided his time.

And then the news had come of Brian’s undeath. Curt had been drowning in anger and Jack had held him. And kissed him. Stroked him. Penetrated him. Pale flesh, soft flesh, tight flesh. Everything Jack had imagined and more. Perfect.

And more than once. His dream come true, Jack couldn’t remember ever being this happy. Jack had everything and Brian had nothing, except a career that had been killed by the bullet that hadn’t killed him.

Jerry’s career had also suffered. But he wasn’t so out of the loop that he didn’t hear about Jack and Curt. While Jerry might not have been the sharpest of men, he assuredly wasn’t stupid. And he certainly wasn’t above a little revenge. A phone call to Curt, congratulating him on his album’s success, led to the ‘accidental’ telling of Jack’s role in the whole shebang.

Which led to a not in any way accidental confrontation between Jack and Curt. Jack had tried everything, including the whole truth, to try to get Curt to stay, but nothing had worked. Nothing had erased the pain in Curt’s eyes as he tried to give Jack back the pin that had started it all. Not even Jack asking him to keep it.

So now Jack had nothing, just like Brian. Even the successful album with Curt wasn’t enough to save his waning career. And Jack no longer believed in the luck of the pin. Both his and Brian’s fortunes had seemed to wax and wane with its coming and going, but Curt’s luck hadn’t been all that good after he got it.

But Curt had said that life wasn’t a fairy tale, there was no happily ever after. You got what you could, while you could and you went on from there. Just like Curt was doing now.

Jack watched them leave, the knight in tarnished leather armor with his blue-haired squire. A new kind of fairy tale. It had started with a party and it ended with one. Still, it was a very nice party.

fin  



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